Kink in my Armor
by MissyBlack31
Summary: Kinky drabbles inspired by Sherlock. Multiple pairings. All M/M. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: Why did I start this? I'm bored and snowed in. I need a distraction. I love Sherlock. **

**Oh ... and FFn is being a dick and not letting me update my other story. **

**These will be short and sweet chapters, around 500 words each, updated whenever I'm feeling kinky.**

**Enjoy!**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**TEST DUMMY**

"Would you like some tea?"

Sherlock didn't look up, only grunted, eyes glued to his computer screen.

I sighed.

Typical Sherlock.

"I'll take that grunt to mean 'Yes, that would be lovely. Thanks ever so much John.'" I grumbled as I made my way to the kitchen, nearly tripping and breaking my neck over the stacks of papers currently cluttering our sitting room floor.

I made it all the way to the doorway before I heard "Don't forget the sugar, John."

Sigh.

I grabbed the sugar bowl from the cupboard, only startling slightly at the sight of the pickled jar of fingers beside it. Shaking my head, I started the tea. I toasted some bread whilst I waited, whistling softly and keeping my eyes averted from the questionable substances floating around our kitchen sink.

"You know ... Sherlock! One day in the near future our flat is going to be condemned and when they investigate, they are going to pinpoint some unknown bacteria growing in our kitchen as the cause!"

No response came from the sitting room, not that I expected one. I growled as I grabbed the strawberry jam from the fridge, saying a silent prayer as I eyed the human brain that he'd brought home last week now sitting innocently on the top shelf.

I hurriedly finished my toast, plated it, and grabbed the tea cups. I'd eaten one slice before the teapot finally whistled. I finished the tea, remembering to add Sherlock's sugar of course, and brought the tray out. I nearly tripped again on the way to the couch and yelped.

My flatmate didn't even look up from his screen.

"Sherlock, could you move these files. I'm going to break my bloody neck!"

"Not if you watch your footing, John. Really, you should be more careful."

I cursed, silently, and set the tray down on table.

I grabbed my tea and second slice of bread, clicking on the telly and choosing to ignore the prat at my side.

I was nearly through with my tea before I felt it.

Sherlock's intense stare was focused on my face.

"Wha? Is there food on my face or summat?" I questioned, my mouth still rather full.

Sherlock smiled.

My lips began to tingle.

"Sherlock ... bloody fuck ... what did you do to me?!"

Sherlock set his laptop aside, his hands going into his all too familiar prayer position under his chin.

His eyes felt like they were boring into my skin, my body was starting to feel warm. Even my clothes were making my skin prickle and heat.

Sherlock slowly leaned over and raised his hand to my face, gently stroking my cheek and neck, ghosting his fingertips over my flushed skin.

I moaned.

"Oh, fuck."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**SOMETHING NEW**

My eyes searched the room frantically. Looking for an escape ... an explanation ... something. Sherlock sat beside me, calm and collected ... the exact opposite of my panicked self.

"Was it in the tea ... no you drank the tea ..."

Sherlock smiled and ran his fingers through my hair and another choked moan tore itself from my throat.

I bit my lip.

My eyes locked on the tea tray.

"It was in the jam, wasn't it?"

Sherlock hummed, his lips just beside my ear.

I nearly cried out as a shocking vibration ran down from my ear to my cock.

_Fuck!_

"Sherlock ... unh ... answer me! Was it the jam?"

Sherlock's lips lightly grazed my neck.

I was now painfully hard and ready to run to my bedroom. Anything to get away from this maniac.

Sherlock must have sensed my desire to flee because his right hand suddenly circled my wrist, holding it in a vice grip.

The contact burned in the most delicious way.

Then he whispered, his mouth still so close to my skin, his breath heating my face.

"Brilliant John."

I could only whimper in response.

His left hand reached up to my collar bone, swiping gently along my collar. I suddenly couldn't breath. My chest felt constricted. My clothes were so tight ... strangling me.

"I need ..." I tried to speak but Sherlock's mouth hadn't moved from my skin, his lips were still blazing a path along my throat.

"Yes, John? Tell me. What do you need?"

"Ahh ... ahh ... affff."

It was useless. The combination of Sherlock's mouth and fingers had rendered my tongue useless. I couldn't convey what I needed and I couldn't rip myself away from Sherlock's ministrations.

It simply felt too good.

Per usual, Sherlock deduced what I needed in a matter of seconds. He pulled the sweater and t-shirt clear and stared.

If I wasn't so bloody hot, I'm sure I would have pulled them both back on straight away. His curious eyes roamed my torso, lighting on each scar and valley, studying me. I wanted to tell him to shove off and run, but being the evil genius he is, he knew this. His long fingers danced along my chest, holding me captive.

"How are you feeling, John?"

I blinked in response.

He smiled.

"Are you feeling warm?"

I nodded.

His mouth rejoined his fingers in their quest to drive me stark raving mad.

His tongue on my shoulder had me crying out again.

He stopped immediately to focus again on my face, his grin quite like the Cheshire cat.

"Aroused?"

I nodded again helplessly.

He smiled and his fingers followed my chest hair down my stomach to my belly button, his mouth not far behind.

The noises I made were nothing short of pornographic.

He reached my trousers, fingers flicking my button and looked up again.

I nodded.

What else could I do? I was beyond stopping at this point.

His grin widened and when he spoke, his voice sounded deeper ... perhaps he was as affected as I was?

Reading the question on my face, he leaned over and swiped some jam off my plate. He turned to me and licked the sticky substance off his finger slowly, his eyes fixed on mine.

He pulled it out with an obscene pop and smiled again.

"Yes, John. It's something new."


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n: So many visitors and no reviews? Where's the love my friends? Show me yours and I'll show you mine.**

***wink wink***

**CHAPTER THREE**

**THEORY OF ATTRACTION**

Sherlock unbuttoned my trousers and pulled down the zip before he suddenly went completely still.

"John, what are you feeling now?"

The manic gleam had disappeared from his eyes. He almost looked insecure.

That was somehow more frightening. I'd never seen Sherlock anything short of absolutely sure of himself. He was always ten paces ahead, racing towards some remarkable revelation to another. But now ... now he seemed to be doubting himself.

I found myself wanting to erase that doubt as quickly as possible. Suddenly capable of speech, I sat up and took his hand. A shiver passed through my body just from that light contact, but I pressed on. I needed to reassure him.

_Wait ... why was I reassuring him? He drugged me for Christ's sake!_

Sherlock's wide eyes met mine and then I remembered. I needed to do it. No matter what he'd done. I needed him to know.

"Sherlock, I feel incredible."

His eyes narrowed and he searched my face. His frown slanted and became a crooked grin. The hand not entwined in mine ran up my leg.

"Describe it to me, John. What else?" he whispered.

His voice seemed huskier ... deeper. It was shocking how much this alone excited me.

"I feel ... alive. My skin is hot ... every touch sends a sensation through my body ... similar to a static shock ... but pleasant. More than pleasant. Incredibly ... arousing." I answered slowly, my mouth gone dry.

Sherlock nodded, his hand now firmly stroking my thigh. I found I wanted him to move his hand higher.

He knew. Of course, he knew.

"John. Do you want to go further?"

I bit my lip. What we'd done thus far could be explained away. It was just sensation. Skin on skin. Some touch enhancing drug inducing a predictable reaction. If we went on ... if we crossed that line ... our relationship would be changed, for better or worse.

And he was giving me a choice. I could get up now. Go shower, have a wank, lock myself in my room. Wake up tomorrow and have a laugh, shaking my head at another of Sherlock's crazy experiments. He clearly had enough evidence for whatever case he was working on but he was giving me the option of more.

_Why? Why was he doing that? Asexual Sherlock ... committed to his work ... why would he want to continue? Was this some pity fuck? Payment for participating in another strange drug trial?_

The thought made me close my eyes and flinch away.

"No, Sherlock. You don't have to do that. It's ... fine."

I sighed and went to lift myself from the sofa, prepared to flee with my tail tucked between my legs, but Sherlock's grip on my hand tightened, stopping me once again.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**PERSON OF INTEREST**

"You think I don't want this ... want you. Why?"

His grip became tighter than before and a prickling sensation was spreading from my wrist up my forearm. It was distracting and I grunted, trying once again to pull free.

His frowned but released me, his hands dropping to his sides limply.

"You ... Sherlock ... I don't think ..." I took a deep breath, willing my mind to once again form complete sentences, explain why this was so difficult.

_Deep breaths._

"Sherlock ... you never before expressed any interest in these ... things." I answered lamely, gesturing wildly with my hands, my face heating with embarrassment. I found myself wishing I'd kept my mouth shut. This was beyond awkward. Never a conversation I'd ever considered having with him before.

_Of course this whole situation was not one I would have ever predicted._

He nodded in understanding. The frown disappeared and I felt myself release a lungful of air that I wasn't even aware I was holding.

"I've never before expressed an interest in sex. That's what you are referring to?" he asked.

I nodded dumbly, my tongue felt tied once again just from the way he drew out the word sex.

"I assure you, John, I am a fully functional male. I am healthy and have sexual desires. I simply don't concern myself with it on a regular basis. It interferes with my work."

"B b b but ... you are now? Concerning yourself I mean? Why?"

"I make exceptions when I come across people who interest me."

"P p people? Plural?"

He smirked.

"Yes. There have been others."

I swallowed hard, trying hard to wrap my head around it. It wasn't hard to imagine people being attracted to Sherlock of course. He was bloody gorgeous. But Sherlock expressing interest in anyone, apart from a corpse, seemed so unbelievable.

"So ... have you ever ... you know..."

I blushed again. Dammit.

Sherlock chuckled. "I'm finding your inability to express basic human acts amusing. You are a doctor, John. You do know the terminology, yes?"

I huffed and rolled my eyes.

"Fine, Sherlock. Fine. Have you ever had sex with anyone?"

"What kind of sex, John? Oral sex? Heterosexual? Homosexual? Penetrative sex?"

I sunk into my chair. I felt light headed. I needed a drink. Tea ... no water ... ice water. I still felt too hot. I looked down and suddenly remembered I was half nude.

"Fuck." I uttered softly, though he still caught it, giving me that disarming grin again.

"No, John. I haven't had penetrative sex."

I bit my lip.

"Mmmm."

My brain seemed to be stuttering again and I think it was due to Sherlock's repeated use of the word sex.

"May we proceed now?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "I must admit ... I'm starting to feel some of the effects of the stimulant now. I'd like to explore it further."

I looked up sharply. So he was admitting to drugging me this time? And he licked his finger ... ingesting some of the chemicals as well ... and he wanted to proceed ... what?

"You want to do ... things ... with me?" I asked, still disbelieving this was actually happening.

"Oh yes, John. I wouldn't trust this with anyone else." he assured me.

He stood and started unbuttoning his shirt.

I stopped asking questions.

**a/n: Yes! I'm such a tease! lol I thank the two reviewers who left kind words. Could I have some more please? Express your thoughts and desires if you'd like to see more progress between these two... Hee hee.**


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n: Sorry for the long wait. I went on a bit of a Shameless bender. Can't see Sherlock till the 19th here in the US, so I needed a fix. If you don't watch Shameless ... well you should. Crazy addictive (or crazy and addictive) ... hmmmm. Made this chapter a bit longer to make up for it!**

**anywhoo~ back to our boys!**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**USE ALL FIVE SENSES**

Sherlock stripped in a matter of seconds. Standing in only his pants, his sizable erection was so noticeable through the thin cotton of his shorts, I wanted to reach out and touch it. I'd seen Sherlock waltz around half naked many times, modesty just wasn't in Sherlock's vocabulary, but never ... never like _this._

John's arm was half raised before he even knew what he was doing.

"Sight and smell are definitely accentuated by the drug. I wonder if my sense of touch will be magnified as well." He hummed and I froze.

I was like the child with his proverbial hand in the cookie jar. I looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes, shocked by my own actions as well as his words.

I blinked and let my arm fall, quite unsure what I should be doing here or if I should be running away yet.

Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh come now, John. I thought we were past this. Feel free to touch me."

I frowned.

Sherlock huffed again and looked very much like he was about to stomp his feet.

I couldn't help but smile and some of the awkwardness lifted. He stepped forward, now standing directly between my knees. My eyes in direct line with the small bit of clothes he still had left on.

"Umm ... I think we already found that touch is ... uh ... intensified. Remember?" I stuttered, looking everywhere but straight ahead, and not because I was disgusted ... I was feeling that pull even more now. I was scared of what I might do.

And like always, he read me like an open book.

"John."

I looked resolutely at my own knees.

"John!"

I blinked again, took a deep breath, and slowly raised my eyes ... past his bulging pants ... to his eyes.

His eyes that were darker than I'd ever seen before.

If I had to describe that look in one word I'd call it ... hungry.

"Right ... okay."

I slowly reached out and took hold of his hip.

He gasped.

My eyes shot back to his face. His mouth was open still, a look of surprise on his face.

I reached out with my other hand and stroked along his thigh before grabbing his other hip.

He gasped again ... this time it sounded like a small hiccough.

Emboldened, I leaned forward. The silky texture of his no doubt incredibly expensive pants felt amazing under my fingers. And his scent ... a combination of lemons and musk. I found my mouth watering and pulled him closer without a second thought. My face met cloth and I inhaled deeply, rubbing my nose and cheek against the smooth fabric and the hard stiffness underneath.

Sherlock whimpered and that was all she wrote. I was addicted. His scent, the contrasting textures, his sounds ... I needed more.

My mouth starting tracing the path of my nose, soon my tongue sticking out just slightly to join the party, leaving a wet trail along the material separating me from his skin. I licked all along his pelvis and cock, finally stopping when I reached his tip, finding a wet patch and an entirely new taste to focus on.

I had just pulled it into my mouth, humming at the delicious combination of scents and flavors, when Sherlock's knees gave out and he ended up in my lap.

I couldn't hold back the smug grin that this caused.

"Was that what you were looking for, Sherlock?"

My chuckles turned to a choking sound when Sherlock starting grinding his lap against mine in response.

"Oh yes, John." he answered, his voice all gravel and heat in my ear. "The senses are definitely heightened."

I could do nothing but moan loudly in return.

**a/n: Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n: I think it's time to switch it up, don't you? Sherlock would like to has his thoughts heard as well, don't you know? And not just the ones he bothers uttering out loud for us mere mortals!**

**CHAPTER SIX**

**MORE DATA NEEDED**

John is much shorter than the average male, just over five foot six (1.7 meters to be exact), and his short stature had previously led me to believe that he would be small in all other areas.

His hands are small.

His feet are small.

He does have broad shoulders and nice thick muscles in his arms and pectorals, but one would still reasonably deduce that he would lack ... length in all other places.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Sitting upon his lap, I can feel his erection press against mine and it feels quite sizable, but of course, I could not leave such an important detail to estimation and guessing.

I needed to know.

Unfortunately, my desire to know was in direct contradiction to my desire not to move away from John. The moment I seated myself atop his legs, his mouth started seeking more contact. My neck was at the perfect height for his attack and attack he did.

It's completely arresting.

I'm so caught up in my dilemma that I don't notice when I stop moving my hips to meet his.

But John does notice. All action freezes as he pulls back to see my face.

"What's wrong?"

I huff. He's stopped the biting and licking. I might even pout though I'd never admit to it.

He squeezes my hips and the feel of his fingers grazing the bare skin at my waist brings me back to the moment. The mouth has been removed from my throat, the distraction gone, and now I can collect more data.

Data about John. My absolute favorite kind. He is a man of many surprises and for someone like myself, who is rarely surprised, it is an enticing feeling.

I instantly brighten and move to stand. He looks confused and I know from experience that this will lead directly to hurt. I rush to speak.

"Too many clothes." I point at him and then cross my arms.

Waiting.

The confused look disappears and he laughs.

"Right ... okay."

He shakes his head and pulls off his shoes before standing to remove his jeans. He is now standing in just pants, just like me, and his eyes search my face.

"Happy?"

"No." I instantly reply. The organ I want to examine is still covered, hidden from my inquisitive eyes.

He frowns again.

"Stop it." I admonish before standing a bit closer and leaning close. "Remove the pants too."

His eyebrows both leap up to his hairline, his eyes widen, but then after just a second of hesitation, he does as I ask.

I kneel to take a closer look at his penis. I need to know if my deductions were correct after all.

He squeaks. I ignore him and lean closer, smiling at what I see. I was correct. Much larger than average.

I place my palm against him for measure.

"Jesus." John mutters, exhaling loudly.

Just over seven inches.

"Extraordinary, John." I tell him, finally looking up.

He blushes bright red.

**a/n: Don't you just love foreplay? I know ... I know you hate me, but the anticipation is the best part! Okay ... maybe not the best part. lol **

**Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n: Still Sherlock's point of view. It took me a bit longer but I gave you a longer chappie.**

**You're welcome. **

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**STIMULUS RESPONSE**

"You look quite fetching when you blush, John."

My words were times with a few precise brushes against John's erection. His response was garbled. I know from past experience that John does not take compliments well and so it's best to distract him while giving one.

I stroked him a few more times for good measure.

"Ahhhhhh ... y-y-y-yes."

I have a feeling John isn't agreeing with me. He is in fact having a positive response to my stimulation of his erect penis.

I felt this deserved further analysis. I closed my hand around him and stroked more vigorously, twisting my hand when I reached the tip before pulling back down.

His hands flew to my hair, thankfully not pulling. Just resting there with an occasional scratch along my scalp. Not objectionable. I rewarded him with a tighter grip.

"AHHHHH ... fuck ... y-y-yes ... yes ... Sherlock ... God ... right thereeeee..."

Tightening of hand and quickening of strokes creates an even more animated response. Interesting.

I kept up the same pace but couldn't resist pulling his tip into my mouth as he did mine just moments ago. I found myself with an urgent desire to know how John tasted.

It might be said I've always had a bit of an oral fixation. Made quitting cigarettes inordinately difficult ...

... which is why I still steal one now and again.

I've never been good at impulse control.

John's response to the addition of my mouth to the red, swollen tip of his penis was a strangled moan ... much like a whale call if I had to find a sound to compare it to ... and his hands were now pulling slightly on my hair.

I very much enjoyed his whale sounds and the weight and feel of him in my mouth. I smacked his hands in warning and they moved immediately to my shoulders.

Good John.

The contrasting textures and scents were fascinating. John's erection was so silky soft and yet so firm. His hard, muscled thighs were covered with a very thin layer of feather soft hair. His smell was earthy but still held a hint of the iodine soap used in the hospital. I could see how the victims in the case could be easily distracted by the murderer in the case. I opened my mouth further in an attempt at further discovery.

... oh ... oh John!

My attention was suddenly averted by a sudden thrust by John's hips. My eyes shot up to his face in surprise but John's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, a look of pure pleasure on his face.

I couldn't help but feel pleased with myself.

Until he thrust again, harder than before. I gagged, my hands flying to his hips in an effort to slow his assault. I started breathing heavily through my nose, struggling for air.

As always, John knew how to calm me. His fingers moved back to my throat and began threading through my hair. I felt myself relax at the sensations, my scalp always so sensitive to touch. My panic subsided, John's obvious intention, and I started to enjoy it. John's erection pushed further in my throat and I swallowed.

He started shouting loud enough to awake our neighbors ... or Mrs. Hudson.

... this was her weekend to visit her daughter, right?

John's movements quickened again and my focus was once again pinned to the slight burn in my jaw and feel of John in my mouth. It was slightly painful, but it didn't hurt. It sharpened my consciousness until all I could think about was John, like a recording on repeat in my brain.

It was exciting and overwhelming.

My hand flew to my own neglected erection. I tried to masturbate in time with his thrusts. It was so much to take in ... so much to concentrate at once.

So so good.

I didn't want it to end.

Suddenly, John's moans turned to a shout and he ejaculated. My mouth couldn't contain it all, some discharge spilling down my chin and onto my chest. I looked up at John with wide eyes, my hand still moving rapidly over myself.

John's eyes zeroed in on the movement before returning to my face. His eyes narrowed before he pulled my hand away and yanked me to my feet.

"Bedroom now."


	8. Chapter 8

**a/n: Sorry sorry sorry. Didn't mean to put you off so long! Life ... you know. Try to be better. *kisses***

**Still Sherlock's point of view.**

**Enjoy!**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**CHEMICAL ROMANCE **

Oxytocin is a powerful hormone released by men and women during orgasm.

It probably deepens the feelings of attachment and makes couples feel much closer to one another after they have had sex. The theory goes that the more sex a couple has, the deeper their bond becomes.

This is a probable explanation for the way John is looking at me right now. He looks like a predator on the verge of attack. My pulse is jumping but I know it's not fear. I'm excited to see what he will do next.

"It's strange. I have felt similar highs from other drugs I've taken in the past, but never so alive. The others have mostly numbed feeling ... this seems to have awakened every nerve ending. It's quite fascinating."

"Sherlock lie on the bed."

My eyes widened but I obeyed his command. Even his voice was having a very tangible effect on my body. I made myself comfortable on the center of the bed, stroking my aching penis as I waited.

John's hands tightened into fists. "Stop touching yourself, Sherlock. Put your hands above your head."

I moved them slowly, frowning at him. I desired more stimulation, not less.

"Stop your pouting. I will take care of you."

His voice had lost it's edge. He once again became the caring John I've know for years.

"Wait here."

He then left the room.

This was not part of the plan.

"John!"

I closed my eyes and counted to thirty. I could be patient.

_1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10...11_

"Jawwwwwwwwwn!"

_So I didn't make it quite to thirty. I needed him this instant! This was critical!_

"Jawwwwwww..."

"Jesus, Sherlock! Stop your hollering. I'm here."

When he returned he had a small bottle of lubricant and a condom in his hand. His eyes looked to mine, questioning.

I nodded quickly.

He smiled.

"God, you're beautiful." he hummed, stealing my thoughts right from my head.

"Sentiment." I replied, rolling my eyes. "Get over here."

He smiled that warm smile again and crawled onto the bed.

He was wrong. He was the beautiful one.

He moved above me, kissing me once more. I felt his hands disappear, his arms moving, but nothing else. I couldn't see past his face, his lips on my lips, so I had no idea what he might be doing. His mouth kept me quite distracted however, tongue entwined with mine to press and then retreat so that mine could seek out his. Tingles were once again breaking out all over my skin and his moaning into my mouth wasn't helping matters.

I wanted more.

When he finally stopped kissing me and moved back, hovering just above my legs, I told him.

"More."

John smiled again.

"Yes."

He grabbed the condom and rolled it down my penis. I did know how this worked. I'd done my research. I couldn't figure out why he was sheathing myself and not the other way around. I watched as he applied lubricant over the prophylactic. Finally, his eyes met mine.

"Why have you ..."

He silenced me with his mouth once more, his hands gripping my shoulders as he moved forward.

I was suddenly enveloped in the tight heat of his body.

"John!"

My scream was muffled by his mouth. His laugh was quieted by mine. He moved slowly, up and down, until my mind became a jangled mess, all thoughts scattered to the winds.

_Oh, oh John. Yes._


	9. Chapter 9

**a/n: I changed the last chapter only by title. Chapter EIGHT, not seven. I can't count apparently. Or keep a schedule. Sorry. I procrastinate and am easily distracted. Bad combo.**

**I will make it up. Here's some Mycroft for you to enjoy!**

**Kisses!**

**CHAPTER NINE**

**OUT OF THE CLOSET**

The knocking at the door woke me from a most pleasant dream. A dream where John and I were solving a case. We were naked for some reason, but excited and victorious none the less. John was looking at me strangely. His eyes looked even bluer than in reality. The were hypnotic. He was saying something ...

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Then the dream was gone and replaced by a banging at the door. I might murder whoever was on the other side just to get back to sleep. I slowly turned and felt warm skin touching mine.

I froze.

I took in my surroundings.

My bed.

My room.

My blankets.

The body beside me shuffled and let out a snore.

Not me.

Deep breath and I completed my turn to face my intruder, but it was no intruder. It was my John.

The smile that split my face was thankfully witnessed by no one for John was still deeply asleep.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

He wouldn't be for long with that racket. Back to plotting murder, I quickly left my bed and reluctantly left my warm John, and threw on my robe. Walking through the living room, I discovered it did look like the scene of a crime. I dearly hoped it wasn't Mrs. Hudson on the other side of that door. She would surely go on for hours about the state of her rental.

I opened the door only to find it was much worse.

"Hello, brother dear. Thank you so much for dragging yourself from your bed."

"Mycroft." I grunted in response, not budging from my spot in the doorway. No need to make him feel welcome.

He wasn't.

Mycroft sighed. "Well ... aren't you going to invite me in? Where are your manners, Sherlock?" he tutted.

I rolled my eyes.

"What do you want?"

His beady eyes searched me head to foot. He shook his head. "Sherly? Not on drugs again, are we? So plebian. I can't imagine Scotland Yard would take your help if you were."

It was no use now. I turned on my heel with a grunt and headed towards the kitchen. I needed a cup of tea. I was just about to call out for John to make it when my brain caught up with my impulse.

John.

One look at John and Mycroft would be all over us like a bloodhound. No, no ... I would have to forgo the tea. I abruptly changed course to the living room and sat in my chair, plucking my violin from its perch as I did so.

"I imagine that will hurt you more than me right now, Sherlock." Mycroft commented as he followed me to sit. He looked around the unkempt room and decided to have a change of heart.

I looked up and raised an eyebrow. "You know the way out."

Mycroft tutted again. "Where is John this lovely morning?"

The implication was clear. Why was John allowing me to make such a mess? Little did the pompous arse know that John helped create much of it.

I smiled and started playing, my impulse to irritate my brother once again clouding my mind. Quite the tactical error all things considered because it woke John from his slumber and made my conspiratorial efforts completely useless.

He walked out, completely nude, rubbing his eyes and made for the bathroom without once looking in our direction.

"I'm having a bath, Sherlock!" he called as he closed the door.

Mycroft looked from the door to me, eyes wide with delight.

I scowled.

"Out of the closet finally, brother?"

"Just as soon as you do, brother." I replied angrily, frown firmly in place as I resumed my screeching rendition of Bach's symphony number 5.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

**a/n: Back to John's POV. Bit longer as well. If you like, please review!**

**MORNING AFTER PILL**

I sank into the tub slowly, groaning happily as the steamy water reached my skin, soothing my aching muscles.

'I'm getting old.' was my first thought.

'Much too old for Sherlock.' was my second.

Sherlock.

How did I let this happen? I'm usually the voice of reason. I stop him before he rushes into danger. I hold him back from his dangerous impulses.

Why did I not stop him this time? This time ... when everything between us could be at stake.

The feeling of guilt was quickly replaced by anger.

'How could he do that? Drug me? Drug himself? We would never ... this would never have happened if he hadn't been so stupid!'

Then I started to remember all that did happen and my anger evaporated in a moment. I didn't regret it. I hoped Sherlock didn't regret it. I never felt more alive ... such excitement ... such desire ...

This plunged me right into fear.

'What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he never looked at me the same way again? What if he asks me to leave?'

I turned off the water and the ear splitting notes of Sherlock's violin filled the air.

'Was he upset? Was he just working out his feelings? Was he trying to make my ears bleed?'

I sighed and reached for the soap, continuing my bath. The sooner I got out, the sooner I could lock the violin up and stop that infernal racket.

Then I heard a voice ... it sounded like ... Mycroft?

"Oh God, no."

I thought about my naked stroll down the hallway and panicked.

'How long had he been here? Had he seen me? Did Sherlock tell him what happened last night? Did he even need too?'

I gulped and plunged my head underneath the water. Drown myself or face the music as it were?

The need to breathe won out and I once again resurfaced. I carefully lifted myself out of the bath, pulled the drain, and grabbed a towel. I looked around desperately for something to cover with and finding one of Sherlock's older robes, pulled it on. It took every ounce of bravery in me to open that door, but I took a deep breath and made myself do it.

The sound of the door opening was met with an echo of a door closing further in the apartment. Either Mycroft left or Sherlock or both ... a tiny part of me was hoping for both just so I could have some time with my thoughts.

I limped into the living room and finding it empty continued on to the kitchen, also empty.

"Alone then."

I smiled and made myself a cup of tea, grabbing some pain pills as I went. Seemed I would only have to face the soreness of my muscles for now. The pulsing in my temple and nagging questions could be shoved down till later.

I smiled and took my cup back to the living room.

"John."

I promptly spilled hot tea all over my chest in surprise.

"Hot! Damn! Sherlock!" I screamed, pulling the burning patch of cloth away from skin. The jump made the muscles in my back protest in pain and I nearly fell into my chair, breathing heavily and setting my cup carefully onto the table beside me.

Sherlock was by my side in an instant.

"You're limping."

I glared up at him. "Yeah. Just burned myself with hot tea. Thanks for scaring me half to death."

He narrowed his eyes in return.

"No ... that's not it. You're in pain."

His eyes widened comically.

"You're in pain! It's from last night ... John, we should get you to hospital ... it could be an anal tear or some other injury ... you could have ..."

I held up my hand to stop him. He was going to work himself into a right fit ... or make me lose the contents of my stomach.

"Sherlock, I do not have anything wrong with me. Other than my muscles are sore from..." I blushed hotly. "I took an analgesic . I will be fine."

He stopped and eyed me critically before nodding and waltzing into the kitchen. He returned with a towel and his own cuppa. He gave the towel to me and sat primly in his own chair.

"So ... tell me how you're feeling, John. The effects of the drug have worn off. Are you feeling any negative effects?" His eyes flitted down and then back to my face. "Other than the stiff muscles?"

I threw the towel at him.


End file.
